Baby Rani Karmakar
I missed the appointment today.
It was at 11.10am.
I was supposed to be at the
reception to punch my card. The machine would then confirm the appointment
releasing a small slip. I knew where I was supposed to be waiting, so I didn’t
need to ask the receptionists for instruction map. The laminated map along with
a couple of hand directions for right and left, back and forth, is the only way
to get to the right department. It’s not bad to pass some time without any
verbal communication. The legacy of ancient communication is still effective
after centuries especially for the foreigners in some countries where English
is not spoken hugely. Here the language
of earnest gesture is much more simplistic than encrypted sophistication.
Other times, I would have been in
the queue of half a dozen of over sixty elderly people as usual. The circular
wall clock read 24 to 1pm. Appointment time didn’t mean that I would be face to
face with the doctor exactly at that point. But if I crossed the time, and
failed to inform the concerned department, and didn’t ask for reappointment
possibility the same day, I wouldn’t be allowed for consultation. I had already
slipped the hospital ID on the protruding tray and so now I could move around.
When I dropped the card on the tray, from behind the glass wall with a
perforated circular space for small talks with the patients, the lady picked
asked me to wait.
This was a long period sought out
slot for the diagnosis. A lingering headache brought me here. I was waiting at the lounge. The best reward
that some lounges offer was the baby faces. They were kangarooing with the
moms. Such a carefree gesture! Such lavish careless innocence amused me.
The nurse came to me and asked me
to meet the doctor.
I was waiting at the neurology
lounge. I know that doctor. I came here in the second year and this third year.
I am a truant; to the doctor. I love to meet him to ensure my mother that I am
obedient to her. This evening when she would ask me if I had met the doctor, I
couldn’t lie.
The neurologists are often
saints, especially when they are very experienced. Dr. Su (I named him this for
the purpose of anonymity) was calm. He was earnest to response to my inquiries
and worries and anticipations slowly and made me quiet and to listen to him. By
the time I came up to the chamber again after the 20 minutes examination, the
reports were already on the hospital’s portal accessible to the designated
doctor. He was screening the report. I
sat beside him looking also at the images that he was intently watching: the
scalp, the brain, the veins and many more.
He calmly explained me that I had
already passed the slot for the examination, scanning too to detect more
specific details of the brains and the nerves and the blood vessels to identify
the heart of my pain.
During the last visit, he showed me
the x-ray images of my neck bones from four different angles, and positions;
such as head bent on the back, bowed on my chest, then from the two sideways.
He directed me to the small
pieces of bones that set one after the other with a distinct distance. The
seven pieces of bones form the curve of the neck called cervical curve. In
between, the ligament binds them. This vertebral column passes down. Through
the structure the veins pass up to the brains to supply blood. He explained why
the distances between the small bones of neck should not be reduced, because
they lack of space might create pressure on the veins that carry blood. But he
didn’t find any clue for tension in the report and was relieved.
I tried to remember, if I had got
hurt. I could only remember that I used to bend my body in many yoga postures,
some of them required me to stay upside down on my neck. After a long time I
tried it again and successfully did that. Spirit might allow, but the age of
the body might resist somehow and cause tension on the muscle. I realized the
lack of flexibilities that my body lost in times.
The neat architecture of a small
part of my body mesmerized me; I was gazing at the spaces in between the bones
and the calm gesture of the neurologist. I guess I was in the spell of the
moment.
Cerebrum, the skeleton tamed me.
To be precise, I became tame to him after two visits to his chamber. He spends
more than 20 minutes to make me understand the function of the specific bone.
I replied him that I would rather
prefer waiting for a late slot for the examination; I am so occupied in my job.
I looked at the doctor intently. He was watching me too, and smiled, “You have
good negotiation capacity. Please wait, I will not confirm, but I will talk to
the doctor who will do it.”
I had to wait for a few minutes.
I knocked the counter and
reported the nurse that I would be back after a while. She came out and by
gesture told me that I should stay there for a while.
When I opened my eyes the doctor
was sitting on a chair in front of me. My slot was again fixed at 2pm. He gave
me the direction of the place. And asked me to come back to see him again after
the examination. Exactly an hour after the examination would start.
There were many paintings on the
hospital walls; most of them were of mountains, waterfalls, frozen twigs laden
with frost, frozen water fall cracked through the slopes, then there were the
blue mountains hurled by giant and white waterfalls, or channeled by snow white
trails. A solitary deer was looking at a distant horizon from dark blue cliff
of a mountain. The whole mountainscape reflected on water. On the other hand, the department wise pictures
of organs were on board on the walls too. They were accompanied by seasonal
diseases and their prescribed vaccinations and medication.
All I had to do now was to
discover the canteen or some shops somewhere in the womb of the hospital to
grab something for lunch as well as to pass time. I felt like I take anything
today before the serious test that I was going to do. Anticipation overcame me.
A baby was gazing at its mother
so lovingly, that I felt I was smiling too. This was an image of a healthy
baby.
I asked myself, how much time and
money I have spent for enhancing my physical beauty before going outside in
public, quite contrarily, how much less time I spent to take care of my health,
of complex bones, and veins, and
arteries, and their moment’s struggle for collaboration to help me make me a
good presentation in front of large audiences at home and abroad. The doctor
was looking intently at the images, whether to struggle to articulate in a
different language or to finely reproduce the medical knowledge to a foreign
patient.
I listen to him, gazing at the
images that he was directing from time to time.
“Finally face to face again”.
He had a somber face, with a
slight smile settled at the corners of his non addicted lips.
“You love painting, right?”
By the time he inquired about my interests and
daily life style, habits, addiction, aversion etc. Looking at the file, he
continued, ‘you must continue paintings.’
It appeared that our hobbies and
good habits are important for our well - being.
In Japan over a quarter of the
population are over 60 and when I say elderly, I mean over seventy in this
country, and the doctor was over sixty to sixty five or more. He looked at me
and concluded that there was no problem to worry, ‘All I can do for you to
pray.’
‘Stress relieving medicine may
work sometimes if patient prefers.’ I understand, general medicine department
may work too, but language barrier hinder the attendant to understand my
complaint or, my reference to nerves, might have led her to direct me to this
department. But it was ok.
He then looked at my eyes.
We worry a lot these days as we
are more and more getting lonely with loads of life.
( Hiroo, Tokyo, 2014)
